


Royal Secrets

by Mistress_Kalamity



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 11:43:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17365307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistress_Kalamity/pseuds/Mistress_Kalamity
Summary: Growing up on Andromeda where medicine and science have surpassed most of the world they reside in, young Wilhelm Kaulitz I and his brother Tomas Kaulitz I still had very different childhoods.All Billy wanted to know is why he’s kept away from his big brother.





	Royal Secrets

As a servant in the castle, Georg is allowed to traverse into any part of the castle. However, he prefers to stick by young prince Tomas’ side. From the moment the frail boy was born, the older male was given the job of caring for the young boy. His mother was angered that her oldest son was born so weak and sickly. Of course, she was pleased when her younger son Wilhelm was born, she had finally given her husband and heir. 

Georg is always doting on the boy. He helped him wash and he kept him tidy. His parents already considered him an embarrassment, it would be best he not look like one. He often caught his young prince running behind his baby brother, chasing the happy six-year-old through the halls of the massive palace, squeals of joy coming from the younger boy. It is then that his mother comes descending from the stairs and is upset to see Tomas chasing his brother. She quickly yanks Tom when he comes flying past her on the last step and stops the foolery. “And what is it that you think you're doing? Have you finished your studies?”

“Yes, mother, I have. I was just playing to pass the time.”

“Pass the time? Rubbish! You should be in your room practicing your violin,” she scolds. 

“But mother, I hate the violin. Can't I play another instrument? Perhaps the guitar or the piano?”

“ _Piano? Guitar?_ Only girls play such things. A man must play an instrument and showcase his _strength_ and _posture_. Women sit down to play,” Simone spits. 

Georg approaches slowly from behind, not wanting his mother to stress the young prince out to the point of making himself sick. “Madame, perhaps it would be wise if I took him back to his room. I'm sure the young prince is tired,” he smiles at his master. She looks at her son and then up at Georg before releasing him and crossing her arms in front of herself. 

“I hope you've considered our discussion, Tomas,” she hums before retiring back up the stairs. The young prince quietly follows Georg back to his room, shooting a solemn glance at his younger brother. It soon manifests into a glare because of the green monster coursing into his veins. He is the older one yet his baby brother got all the love and devotion. He thought it to be incredibly unfair. The brunette does not look down at Tom until they are by his room door and he does not make a move to step inside. 

“Georg, tell me, why does my mother hate me so much?”

“She's doesn't hate you. It's more like she is just worried about you,” the servant replies. “With your father naming Wilhelm crown prince, there has been some talk in the kingdom and it's been nothing but absolute rubbish.”

“It's not like I made that decision,” the thirteen-year-old grumbles. Georg opens the large doors and gestures for the prince to walk inside. Upon closing them, he hears the sound of metal hitting the ground with a clang. He turns and sees that Tomas has cast his gold band to the ground. The servant rushes to pick it up and places it in the pouch hidden in his cream-colored robes. 

“Sire, your father made that choice for the better of the kingdom.”

“So I am not _good enough_ to run my kingdom?!” Tomas shrieks, his voice cracking. 

“No, not that. Your father just decided that your brother would see the world through better eyes. You've been handed such misery and fragility that it would sicken you to have such a role,” he attempts at comforting the boy. Tom only wraps his long, skinny arms around his thin frame and tears cascade down his pink, freckled cheeks. 

“I _did not ask_ for this weak body, yet mother and father have hidden me away from the rest of the palace in this room with no windows!” He cries. “I have nothing outside of my studies and that stupid violin!”

“Young lord, calm yourself, you would not want to send yourself into a fit now, _would you_?” The young boy drops his arms and cries openly. He sobs, making no attempts at stopping the tears. 

“I'm a failure. Father and mother stuffed me back here because I am nothing but a screwup,” he whimpers. Georg notices the small shakes in his shoulders, getting closer to the boy. He wraps his arms around him, hoping to calm him down. He knew it's illegal to touch the members of the royal family without strict, verbal permission. 

“Shh, it's alright. You are not a failure. Don't think that,” the older male coos. He notices Tom’s hiccups are getting more aggressive, convincing him to pull the boy away from his body. He gets one look at him before panic surges through him. “Damn, you've done it again.” His body is stiff and those hiccups turn into a loud cry. Georg, using his body as a cushion, drops to the floor with the young boy tucked into his arms. He gently gets him to the ground and onto his side before his body convulses. 

Years of doing this helped him to ignore the blood-flecked saliva and the smell of urine and feces wafting up to his nose but he could not ignore the cries coming from the back of the seizing prince’s throat. He holds him gently, rubbing his arm to try and comfort the young boy through the ordeal. “It's alright, my lord, just another one of your attacks. Take a deep breath, I am here with you.”

The boy’s limbs are taut as they jerk against his chest. His jaw locked down and the servant cringed at the sight of tight veins in his throat. Soon his lips purse and the cries turn to slurps and spitting. The number of fluids accumulating at his mouth makes a bubbly foam that coats his blue lips. His rusty eyes hidden behind squinted eyelids. The convulsions soon spread to his legs, which are rigid and straight, toes pointed. His ankles knock and violent shivers surge through his thighs, obvious to Georg from the rapidly moving yet soaked fabric of his taffeta pants. “It's alright, Tomas, I'm here and you are safe. Don't quit on me yet, you can fight this. I promise you.”

He watches over him as the seconds turn to minutes, he didn't know what to do. He wanted to grab the palace doctor but he also could not leave the young lord alone. Georg remained in his kneeled position. He knew the prince would appreciate his face more than the entire royal medical staff when he woke up. Clocking the seconds, he reaches 382 before the boy's body slows to jerks and he starts yelping upon the end of his seizure. 

Georg’s heart steadies when Tom begins the postictal breathing phase. The prince would be alright and that's all he cared about. The brunette did not see the curious eyes of a six-year-old in the doorway, wondering why his brother is on the floor shaking. He runs down the hall to find his mother to ask her. He finds her writing in the library to sounds of the band playing Mozart. He didn't know which one. “Mummy!” He calls. 

With a swift turn, Simone is facing her youngest child with a large grin on her face. “Hello, darling, what can I help you with?”

“I saw Tommy on the floor, he was shivering like I do when I play in the snow with no gloves. Why was he doing that?” The queen’s face hardens as she rises from her seat and closes her journal. 

“Sweetheart, go find one of your picture books. Your teacher says you're still having a bit of trouble reading,” she directs, leaving the child in the large room of music and books. He could not cause too much trouble. Simone travels through the palace, through a hidden corridor, and behind a secret door cleverly disguised as a wall. Approaching the double doors, she pulls them open and is upset to see Tom is still shaking. “When did it start?” She asks. 

“The first one was 382 seconds this one started 98 seconds ago. I didn't want to leave him alone, so I couldn't collect the doctor.”

“No, don't bother. He usually has two fits anyway when they hit. I'll call the bath-woman so she can draw him a lavender bath. I can smell he soiled himself….again,” she huffs. She grew tired of watching her child succumb to this. The disease made him weak in her eyes and she couldn't stand to see him like that. His weakness needs to be kept away. No one needs to know that he has accidents on himself. Or needed to see him flailing about like a suffocating fish. “Also, put the felt between his teeth. I don't need him cutting up his mouth and lips again.”

“My lady, the last time I did that he inhaled the fabric and nearly asphyxiated. The cuts can be covered, I can't get you another son.”

“It would be a huge relief if he died, Georg. I'm sorry to sound so harsh but he cannot ever represent the family title and that _sickens_ me,” the tired queen groans before stepping out of the room. She pulls a cord by the door which calls the bath attendant. Instructing her to draw the young prince a bath, she leaves the two servants to deal with the child she wished had never been born. 

Georg exhales, relieved that Tom is coming out of his second attack, again yelping. He almost sounds like a dog being hurt. “It's alright, my lord, you've finished. You're all done, just relax now,” he coos. Rough hands rub up and down the young boy’s arm as he slowly stills on the floor. After the final convulsions run through him, he's exhaling and expelling bloodied mucus and saliva on the floor beneath his lips. His eyes are open but not focused. “Hey, are you back with me?” 

No response. To make sure that this period of no action is not wasted, he extracts a notepad and pen from his robes and writes out 1: 382s; 2: 325s. Looking at the other entries, he frowns. “They're getting longer,” he mutters to himself. That was never good. He assumed it was the stress. His parents never cared for the boy and with the recent announcement of Baby Prince Wilhelm I as the heir to the throne, the boy had indeed been far sicker than before. His feelings of neglect and resentment from his parents became more apparent. 

For these reasons alone is why even though Georg has full access to the palace and can be wherever he pleases, he prefers to stick solely by Prince Tomas’ side. In this room with no windows.


End file.
